


Heat Flash

by ST99



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Corporal Punishment, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Erotic Electrostimulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Magical Tattoos, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ST99/pseuds/ST99
Summary: A story in which Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson reach an understanding, whether Pansy likes it or not.





	1. Chapter 1

“Pansy hasn’t bothered us in a while,” Harry noted.

Hermione didn’t look up from her classwork. Ron frowned. He looked to the other end of the room, where Pansy Parkinson and a few of her flunkies were quietly focused on their work.

“Yeah,” Ron said thoughtfully. “Been a while since she’s last waved that bloody prefect badge in our face. Bit weird, isn’t it? Malfoy can’t go five feet without whipping his out.”

Harry snorted.

Ron’s brow furrowed. “She’s got to be plotting something, then. Why else would she suddenly go quiet? She’s scheming, I bet.”

“I may have had something to do with it,” Hermione said quietly.

The two boys both shot her a surprised look. “Really?” Harry asked. “You did? What did you do?”

There was a pause. Hermione flipped to the next page of the textbook, eyes away from her friends. Then she said, “We talked. I asked her to stop being such a bully, she asked why’d she ever want to do that, so I told her that this one-sided feud was pointless, I explained how there was nothing to be gained from such horrible behavior, and I asked her to stop. She stopped.”

Harry frowned. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Really?” Ron’s tone oozed skepticism. “But how do you know she’s not lying? She’s got to be, right? I mean, she’s one of the worst Slytherins in school. Not bad as Malfoy, but that’s not saying anything. I wouldn’t trust her for a second.”

Hermione was silent. She flipped another page. Then, in a firm voice, she said, “I’m sure. We’re not going to have any more trouble from her. We have an understanding now.”

“…You sure?”

“Yes. I was just a matter of finding the right words.”

* * * * *

Pansy howled as the wooden hairbrush slammed down on her bare ass. Her voice echoed across the abandoned classroom, bouncing off the dusty stone and dying against the soundproofing charm Hermione had placed around the door. Pansy fought against the rope that bound her arms and legs to the table legs, rattling the wood with the strength of her struggling, but she couldn’t break free from Hermione’s spellwork. Bent over, chest pressed against the tabletop, ass thrust out into the air, Pansy couldn’t do anything to stop Hermione from striking her.

“You have a beautiful voice, Pansy,” Hermione laughed. She struck Pansy once again, hard and fast. Smack! “Don’t be shy!” Smack! “Come on!” Smack! “Tell me how you feel!” Smack! “Does it hurt, Pansy?”

“Yes, you mudblood bitch!” Pansy shrieked. “Yes! You whore! It hurts! Fuck you!”

“That’s not very nice,” Hermione said, mock-hurt. “And a bit surprising, since you must know what happens to girls who act rude.”

Hermione pressed the tip of her wand against Pansy’s asshole, and Pansy screeched as electricity suddenly surged into her. She screamed and thrashed, wildly attempting to escape the pain, but her struggling accomplished nothing. The electric shocks continued uninterrupted. Hermione began to lazily circle the tip of her wand around Pansy’s twitching rosebud.

“Girls who act rude are punished. That’s just common sense, Pansy. If you apologize, maybe I’ll forgive you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Pansy squealed. “Please stop, Merlin please stop, it hurts! It hurts! Fuck! Shit!”

Hermione hummed. It was an easygoing sound, like she was thinking through an answer to a test question. Her electrically-charged wand continued to lightly trace Pansy’s sensitive, rapidly-twitching hole. “Are you sure? You sounded so certain just a little while ago.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, just, Hermione! Please!”

The spell Hermione was using had been designed to link physical pressure with voltage. When the wand pressed down harder, the electrical intensity increased. That was why, when Hermione suddenly angled her wand and dug the tip inside Pansy’s back entrance, Pansy screeched even louder than before. The electricity had her muscles clenching down, which put more pressure on the wooden intruder, which made the already merciless electricity even more painful.

“Hermione!” Pansy howled. “Hermione, please! Pull it out! I can’t take it! It’s too much!”

Hermione kept the wand in place. She kept it there for ten seconds, watching Pansy’s desperate begging and wild struggling, a small smile on her face. Then she finally pulled her wand away. “I suppose you’re being genuine enough,” she said primly. “I accept your apology, Pansy. Thank you for being honest.”

Pansy slowly settled back down, sobbing and panting for breath. Her cheeks were red and tearstained.

“Now we can get back to your spanking,” Hermione continued brightly. “I’m not sure how many I’ve already given you, so I think I might have to start over. Would you like that, Pansy? I’m sure you do. Please ask me to continue spanking you.”

“Hermione, please…”

Hermione clicked her tongue. “Pansy, you know today is a disciplining day. You don’t get to just decide to not get punished. That’s not how it works. You’ve been disrespectful and dishonest for years, and you need a firm hand to keep you in line. If I give you slack now, you’ll just return to your earlier vile behavior. No amount of kicking up a fuss will stop me from giving you this spanking.”

“Besides,” Hermione added, “I don’t understand why you insist on protesting. I’m standing at a rather informative angle, you know. I can clearly see that you’re enjoying this far more than you want to admit.”

Hermione reached down and cupped Pansy’s pussy. Her pussy lips were thick and swollen, her sex so soaked with fluid that her inner thighs were streaked with trails of juice, and her entrance practically radiated eager heat. As Hermione ran her hand across Pansy’s pussy, rubbing her palm up and down the length of her slit, Pansy ever-so-quietly moaned.

“No… Hermione, please, I don’t–”

Hermione abruptly slipped three fingers inside her pussy, a single thrust that easily pushed her up to the last knuckle. A shocked intake of breath escaped Pansy’s mouth. Hermione could see Pansy’s body trembling and twitching, could feel her muscles clenching down on her fingers, even as Pansy tried to still herself. Hermione responded by wiggling her fingers. She couldn’t help but grin at how Pansy’s body involuntarily reacted to the stimulation.

“…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pansy continued, almost successfully hiding how unsteady her voice had become.

“This isn’t something you can lie about, Pansy. It doesn’t matter what you say, because I can always trust your body to give me the honest truth. It’s one of the many reasons why I sometimes wonder if I shouldn’t just start ignoring everything you say.”

Hermione pulled free her fingers, saw them slick with pussy juice, then leaned over and wiped them off on Pansy’s face. Pansy flinched, but otherwise could do nothing to stop Hermione from smearing the fluid across her cheek.

“Anyway, good girls sometimes get treats, and good girls count the number of spanks they are given. If you don’t count, I might get confused again, and wouldn’t it be terrible if I had to start over twice?”

Pansy’s eyes went to the ground. Hermione noticed her muscles were drawn taut with tension; her whole body was tense, actually. Especially her leg muscles, which made Pansy look like she was ready to try and sprint away. The rope was too tight to let her move away from the table legs, though. Hermione lightly tapped the hairbrush against Pansy’s ass, causing her to flinch.

“Alright, fine!” Pansy spat. “I’ll count. Just don’t shock me again, okay? Just… please, okay? Please don’t do that.”

“I’ll consider it, but only so long as you keep to good behavior. Be polite, be respectful, and don’t stop counting. I want to hear a number after every spank, Pansy. If you mess up, I’ll be quite cross.”

“Yes, Hermione,” Pansy grumbled.

“Good. Now please ask me to continue spanking you.”

Pansy grit her teeth. She tested the rope once again, found it solid, then forced herself to settle back down. “Please spank me.”

“Hm?”

Pansy silently snarled, but only for a few seconds. “Please spank me, Miss Hermione.”

“Certainly.”

The hairbrush slammed against Pansy’s ass. She yipped, then shouted, “One!”

Down came the brush, hardly a second later. Pansy yelped louder, but she was just as quick to shout, “Two!”

Hermione gave her a short moment to catch her breath, then made up for the pause by giving her right cheek a smack far stronger than the first two blows combined. Pansy writhed against the rope, her feet even attempting to rise up and kick, but still managed to force out a “Three!”

The fourth, fifth, and sixth hits passed without much issue. Hermione delivered them dispassionately, and Pansy took the relatively gentle strikes with her typical lack of grace. Exactly what Hermione expected from her. After the seventh swat, Hermione began to speak.

“The boys were asking about you, Pansy. They’ve noticed your change in behavior. That’s good, isn’t it? They’ve seen how much you’ve improved. All it took was not being such a massive bitch.”

Smack! Pansy scowled and hissed, “Eight.”

“You know, I’ve recently had an interesting idea. Why not invite the boys over to our next little get-together? Harry and Ron, I mean. I imagine that they’d be quite shocked to see what we all get up to, of course, but I don’t think it would be too tricky to convince them to join in. Can you imagine how much more fun these disciplining sessions would be if I had the boys helping out?”

“Hermione, I–”

“If I hear anything out of your mouth that isn’t a number, I’ll start over,” Hermione warned. Smack!

“N-Nine.”

“Good girl.”

Hermione leaned over. Her long hair fell across Pansy’s bare back, tickling her skin with the curls. Hermione’s hand drifted toward Pansy’s pussy, where it traced her swollen folds and rose to lightly tease the edge of her pearl. Hermione’s mouth drifted close to Pansy’s ear.

“I could have Ron fuck your cute little mouth while Harry takes you from behind. We’d have to teach you how to swallow cock without choking, of course. Or maybe not? You’ve always looked like the kind of girl that has plenty of friends among the older boys. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear you’ve had practice with that sort of thing. Either way, I think Ron would love to give your mouth a nice hard fucking. He’s got a bit of a thing about Slytherins.”

Hermione pressed down on Pansy’s clit for a second, just long enough to have her gasp and her pussy tighten, then pulled away and straightened up. Hermione took a step back, then put her whole body into the next swing of her hairbrush, and the flat wood cracked against Pansy’s ass with enough force to have the girl howling and arching her back. Choking on tears, words lost beneath the pain, it took time for Pansy to find her voice, but she soon enough managed to snarl, “Ten!”

“I’m debating whether to have Harry take you up the bum or not,” Hermione matter-of-factly added. “I think he’d like that. I can’t imagine that there’d be much of a problem on your end. Again, you’ve always seemed like one of those girls that like to spend her nights at older boy’s houses. Still, even if you don’t know anything about anal sex, a good assfucking might be just the thing you need. It could teach you a little something about how terrible it is to have a huge pain in the ass. I think you’d find that very informative.”

Smack! Pansy rocked with the blow. “Gah! Fuck! Eleven!”

Her ass was covered in bright red hairbrush marks, a few slowly darkening even as Hermione watched. The marks were very noticeable against her otherwise pale skin. Hermione chuckled, then reached out to lightly trail a few fingers across the nastiest red patch. Pansy squirmed under her soft touch.

“Or maybe not. I’m still thinking about this. It’s a big decision, you know? I value Harry and Ron’s friendship too much to risk losing it. If I wanted to just fill you with cock, I could always look toward the older boys. I’m sure I could find a few willing to keep things discreet.”

Hermione lightly tapped the hairbrush against Pansy’s ass. Pansy flinched, then froze when Hermione laughed.

“Well? I didn’t hear a number, Pansy. Are you going to count or not?”

“…Twelve.”

Hermione struck Pansy’s ass with full force. The table screeched, wood and stone grinding together, as the blow pushed it across the floor. Pansy’s sudden shriek could have raised the dead; it might have concerned Hermione, but she knew the soundproofing charm was in place. Pansy could scream her head off and it wouldn’t matter.

There was a reason Hermione wasn’t giving Pansy’s extreme reaction much mind, and that was because she knew Pansy better than Pansy knew herself. Hermione understood how far Pansy could truly be pushed. A hard smack to the bum wasn’t even close to that edge.

“Now that wasn’t too hard, was it? Good girl.” Hermione carelessly threw the hairbrush away. It clattered against the stone floor. “I think we’re done with today’s spanking. I suppose you did fine enough, even if you did forget to say thirteen. I’m a generous person, so I can let you get away with that little mistake.”

Pansy looked like she wanted to say something, but before she could speak Hermione reached out and lightly pinched her clit. Whatever words Pansy would have spoken were lost as Hermione firmly rubbed her fingers together, kneading Pansy’s slick nub with just force to overwhelm her. Soft groans escaped Pansy’s firmly gritted teeth, no matter how hard she tried to silence herself. Her body subtly rocked back and forth against the rope.

“Now, about what I said earlier? Those were purely hypothetical scenarios. I’m just throwing out ideas. There’s no need to believe that I’m actually going to do anything I’ve said. Or maybe I will? I might or might not.” Hermione laughed. “You know how important it is for me to keep you on your toes, Pansy. I have to make sure you don’t backslide. I’d just hate to see you return to your earlier bad behavior.”

Hermione, for just a second, pinched hard. Pansy grunted and involuntarily bucked. Hermione laughed again.

She continued to play with Pansy’s clit for another minute or so, only stopping a moment to admire the small stream of arousal that was now trickling out her untouched entrance. But then Hermione noticed something. Pansy’s muscles were subtly tensed, her breathing minutely forced steady, and her pussy had grown remarkably more sensitive and reactive to even the smallest of touches. Hermione knew what that meant: Pansy was attempting to hide a rapidly-approaching orgasm.

Hermione sighed and stepped away, removing herself from Pansy’s body. “You know you’re supposed to tell me when you want to come, Pansy. This kind of deliberate dishonesty is what I meant by your earlier bad behavior. I’m very disappointed in you.”

Hermione flicked her wand, and Pansy’s panties flew up from the table where her neatly-folded clothes sat. They flung themselves into Pansy’s mouth and smothered whatever she was just about to say. Hermione’s second spell sealed Pansy’s lips together, forcing her mouth shut and stopping her from spitting her panties out. Heavily muffled outrage soon followed.

“You’ll have to be punished for that. Luckily, I’ve brought something rather special with me today, and you’ve given me a good enough reason to bring it out. Thank you for that, I suppose.”

Incomprehensible sounds continued to pour through Pansy’s gag. Hermione rolled her eyes and slapped Pansy’s ass, making her squeak and fall silent.

“Here’s a question. How familiar are you with the Chinese art of temporary tattoos? Magical tattoos, I mean?”

Hermione held out a thin strip of paper in front of Pansy’s face. Her eyes focused on the flawless Chinese calligraphy that ran across the strip, then shot Hermione a questioning look. Hermione met it with her own expression of excitement.

“This not Dark Magic, Pansy. It’s close, but not close enough to count. These tattoos are designed to compel certain behaviors or emotions. The more elaborate the design, the more complex the effect. But this compulsion can be ignored if you have a strong enough will, so it really would be more accurate to consider them extraordinarily powerful suggestions. Nothing like the Imperious, no matter what those silly buggers at the Ministry of Magic say. It’s just like those flying carpets, you know? They can’t compete with the competition, so they ban the competition from the country.”

Hermione sighed. “Anyway. This tattoo took a long time for me to design, and I’m quite proud of it. It does three things. Firstly, it intensifies your body’s libido, stimulating your sex drive to the point where you’ll technically be experiencing a form of hypersexuality. Secondly, it intensifies certain touches, specifically the sort your mind has linked to sexual pleasure. Believe me when I say that it will make something as simple as playing with yourself a much more intense experience. Thirdly, last but not least, it will prevent you from climaxing. This tattoo will ensure you never, ever orgasm.”

The look on Pansy’s face had Hermione laughing. “Yes, I know. Isn’t that just wonderful? That last bit was incredibly difficult to design, but I was able to get it working in the end. It was easier once I figured out what internal processes I had to interrupt. It’s all about pushing the right levers at the right time, you know? But that’s a bit off-topic. Would you like me to give you this tattoo? It’s temporary, it’ll only last three weeks.”

Pansy shook her head and let out a sound that, if she were not gagged, would have clearly been no. Hermione smiled and patted the top of Pansy’s head. “Eager to start, huh? Well, alright, if you insist. I’ll give you the tattoo right now.”

Pansy redoubled her muffled yelling. Hermione ignored her. She positioned herself in front of Pansy’s thrust out ass, in the blind spot where Pansy couldn’t see her no matter how hard she twisted her head around. Hermione pressed the paper flat against Pansy’s lower back, carefully positioning it so that it was straight and centered, right where a tramp stamp would go. Pansy rocked back and forth in an attempt to push the paper away from her body, but Hermione just held the slip in place with one hand while the other carefully nudged it into position. Eventually, Hermione was satisfied that the paper slip was right where she wanted it to be, and she flicked her wand and let loose wordless magic.

Pansy squealed as the magic poured into the paper. The calligraphy glowed, temporarily flaring bright as a candle, and Hermione squirmed as the magic went to work. Painlessly, the Chinese characters imprinted themselves into Pansy’s skin, and Hermione watched with a fascinated smile as the ink slowly sank and settled into her body. Soon enough the ink was locked firm and in place, indistinguishable from a real tattoo.

When Hermione lifted the paper away, she saw that Pansy’s body bore a perfect copy. The paper strip was empty. She ran her finger across the tattoo and smiled when she felt nothing but Pansy’s smooth skin.

“The magic worked perfectly. It certainly looks pretty, doesn’t it? Let’s test it out.”

Hermione knelt, eyed Pansy’s pussy, then held out her wand and murmured the words to a spell. Seconds later, a bright pink ball appeared, a small telekinetic construct that was vibrating so intensely the room was filled with the noise of it. Hermione gently guided the magical vibrator through the air, then pressed it down against Pansy’s clit.

Pansy froze, but then quickly wailed and wriggled as the incredibly powerful vibration mercilessly attacked her body’s most sensitive vulnerability. An extraordinarily powerful vibration, in fact. Hermione knew exactly what her spell was doing: it was attacking her with pleasure so overwhelming and intense that it almost became a kind of pain, pure overstimulation in magical form. With her new magical tattoo, that sensation became even more intense. Pansy had almost certainly never felt anything like it in her entire life.

Pansy’s desperate attempt to escape the magical vibrator did nothing except have Hermione occasionally adjust the ball, even nudging it forward so that it was pushing harder against her clit. Pansy’s wild howling, loud even through her panties, shook as her voice wavered between ecstasy and agony. Her pussy quaked and quivered beneath the vibrator’s assault on her clitoris, now dripping so much fluid that it was practically leaking like a faucet.

Less than ten seconds later, Pansy rocketed toward her climax. But keening disappointment escaped her lips when she realized she wasn’t being allowed to push over the edge. The pleasure kept coming, and the tension inside her remained so very close to cresting, but her body wasn’t going farther than that. Unbeknownst to her, the tattoo across her lower back had begun to glow, and the harder she tried to force herself to come the brighter the light grew.

“There we go,” Hermione gently cooed. “The tattoo is working wonderfully. Doesn’t that feel nice, Pansy?”

She lined up her hand with Pansy’s entrance, then began to slowly push four fingers into her, luxuriating in the sensation of Pansy's hot, soaked channel. Pansy’s wailing and whining flowed past Hermione like a river around a rock, even as the howling intensified in response to Hermione slowly sheathing all four fingers deep into her pussy. The sheer frenzy of her channel’s rapid-fire spasming was remarkable. Hermione had never seen anything quite like it before.

“Oh, I bet that’s just wonderful, Pansy. You sound like you’re having so much fun. Here, let me help.”

Hermione then began to brutally fingerfuck Pansy.

She slid her four fingers out and then slammed them back in, over and over again, hard and fast, every thrust forward like a small punch to Pansy’s pussy. Hermione was purposefully being as rough as possible, putting a serious amount of strength and speed into her rapid fingerfucking, so much so that she actually had to brace her other hand against the table to leverage even faster thrusts.

Loud wet sloshing joined the sound of the vibrator’s high-pitch buzzing and Pansy’s muffled screaming. But now, as Hermione worked her tender affection in time to the vibrator humming away at her clit, Pansy was reacting even more violently than before. Her muffled shouting and desperate thrashing were fueled by the devastatingly painful pleasure assaulting her; her whole body was straining against the rope. She was struggling so hard that Hermione noticed she was starting to leave rope burns across her skin. But Hermione had already taught Pansy a spell that could hide marks like that, so she just ignored Pansy’s squirming.

Through it all, the tattoo across Pansy’s lower back glowed, and it continued to block Pansy’s ability to climax. No matter what Hermione did, no matter how hard she fucked Pansy’s pussy, the tattoo made sure she never, ever came.

Eventually, when Hermione finally grew bored of torturing Pansy’s pussy, she slowed down her fingerfucking, then settled to a stop. A wave of her wand dispelled the vibrator. The only sound to be heard was Pansy’s ragged breathing, her sniffled crying, and the steady drip of her arousal trickling against the floor.

“My goodness, you’re so wet,” Hermione said admiringly. “I know you can’t see this Pansy, so believe me when I say your pussy is astonishingly… well, aroused would be the word I guess. Inflamed? You look very needy, is what I’m saying. I bet you really want to come, don’t you?”

Pansy whined, wordless and keening.

“Well, I’m sorry to say that you aren’t allowed that option anymore. You’ll just have to wait three weeks. That’s when the tattoo wears off, as I told you earlier. We can reconsider things then.”

Hermione murmured a spell. Pansy squirmed as she felt all the pussy juice inside her body pour out into the air, twisting up above her like some sort of small flying river. Hermione took that surprisingly large amount of fluid and magicked it into one compact ball, a single nearly-clear sphere full of Pansy’s feminine arousal. Hermione levitated it over Pansy’s head.

“So! I’ll just say three things before I’ll declare today’s discipline session complete. Firstly, I know you really do enjoy this Pansy, and I don’t appreciate it when you try to lie and say you don’t.”

The sphere fell and splashed against Pansy’s head, drenching her with her own fluids. Much of it soaked into her hair, some dribbled onto her back and shoulders, and a small amount dripped onto her face. Pussy juice trickled down her cheeks, her nose, and her tightly-closed lips. Pansy shuddered, but otherwise kept herself still.

“Secondly, I have an assignment for you. I want you to make a new friend. More specifically, I want you to make a new friend that also happens to be a boy in the Seventh Year. It doesn’t matter what house he’s in, or what sort of crowd he hangs around. I have only two requirements: he needs to be at least somewhat handsome and he needs to be discreet. So discreet, in fact, that if I were to hypothetically order you to fuck him you’d never have to worry about him telling everyone what happened. You have two weeks to complete this task, Pansy. Your success or failure will determine whether or not I decide to allow you an orgasm once the tattoo disappears, or even whether I should immediately reapply the tattoo after it fades. There’s no reason why I can’t just double these three weeks, after all.”

Pansy shouted furiously into her gag. Hermione nodded seriously. “Yes, I know, that would be very upsetting. Consider it motivation. So long as you succeed, you don’t have to worry about the consequences of failing. Correct? Say yes, dear.”

Pansy scowled. After a few seconds, she grunted something that could have been considered assent.

“Thank you. And thirdly…”

Hermione undid the spell that sealed Pansy’s lips shut. The other girl immediately spat out her panties and grimaced. Hermione disappeared the rope, then the hairbrush. She turned and erased the soundproofing charm, then cast a spell that removed the smell of sex from both the room and her own body. Not Pansy's body, though. Finally, Hermione walked over to Pansy, putting herself right in front of Pansy’s face, and held out her hand, palm facing downward.

“Thirdly, what do you say after you’ve been punished, Pansy?”

Pansy was quiet. Hermione stared down at her face, watching Pansy’s eyes refuse to meet her own. After the moment had stretched, the room silent save for their breathing, Pansy reluctantly bowed her head and kissed the back of Hermione’s hand. “Thank you, Miss Hermione,” she whispered.

“Good girl.”

Hermione patted the top of Pansy’s head, just like she would pet a dog. Then she frowned and used a spell to clean Pansy’s damp arousal off her palm.

Hermione turned and strode toward the door. She opened it and stepped out into the hall, then paused. “See you next week, Pansy,” Hermione called back. She swung the door shut with a quiet click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More tags will be added as the fic continues. There will be M/F content ahead, so be aware.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait. Adjustments have been made to the first chapter. No changes to the plot, just stamping out typos and fixing bad sentence structuring. I’ll try to get the last chapter finished sometime reasonable, the keyword here being try.

“Where are you going, Hermione?”

“I’m going to study with a friend of mine. I won’t be long, it’ll only be an hour at most.”

Harry nodded and turned back to his homework, but Ron scowled. “Hermione, be honest. Is this friend of yours… well, her? The one we agreed couldn’t be trusted?”

Hermione glanced around the Gryffindor common room. Nobody seemed to be paying them any attention, but she lowered her voice just in case. “Yes, Ron. I know you don’t like her. To be honest, sometimes I get frustrated with her myself. But we promised to meet each other halfway on certain things. Sometimes I help her with schoolwork, and sometimes she helps me with… well, not schoolwork. But with other things. It’s part of our agreement.”

“I don’t see why you have to actually talk to the bloody girl,” he muttered. “She’s still a nosy gossip. She hasn’t changed. She’s just pretending to be decent when she knows we’re watching.”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t think that’s true, Ron. And I’m doing this because I’d rather see if she’s worth more as a friend than an enemy, or at the very least a close acquaintance. It’s better to work together than to be fighting all the time.”

Ron grumbled. “I know, I know. Whatever. Just be careful, alright? I don’t trust her. Slytherins lie.”

Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind, Ron,” she said diplomatically. “But there really isn’t any reason to worry. Everything’s well in hand. In fact, I think we’re both really starting to understand each other.”

* * * * *

Hermione cast a soundproofing charm on the bathroom doorway, then a spell that would make the door automatically lock itself when closed. A conjured “Closed, Come Back Later” sign was the final piece of preparation. Hermione surveyed her work, then nodded.

She knew that Pansy was waiting for her inside, and she also knew that Pansy had no way of knowing what she had just done. That was why Hermione stepped into the bathroom, swung the door shut behind her, and said, “Clothes off and ass out.”

Pansy started in surprise. “What? But this is a public restroom. Anyone could just walk in!”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Don’t make me tell you twice, Pansy.”

Pansy grimaced, then visibly forced herself to hold back whatever she truly wanted to say. Hermione noticed how remarkably flushed Pansy’s face was, even though the bathroom was somewhat chilly. It made her seem more emotionally charged than usual.

“Fine,” Pansy quietly spat. She pointedly set down her wand on a nearby sink and began to strip.

First off was her robes, which exposed a plain skirt and blouse in Slytherin colors. Then she unbuttoned her top, her fingers carefully undoing every button one by one, and pulled it off to reveal a pink bra more fitting for a lingerie shop than anything typically sold to school students. Pansy avoided Hermione’s eyes as she next, with great reluctance, slid her skirt down her legs. Hermione immediately focused on Pansy’s panties; they were red and frilly, clearly designed for eroticism, and ruinously soaked.

Hermione laughed. “I think I understand why your face is so red. Are you enjoying yourself, Pansy? I’ve noticed that you’ve been looking a little warm over the last few days.”

“Fuck off Hermione,” Pansy hissed. “Don’t pretend you’re surprised I’m like this. I can’t stop thinking about sex. It’s on my mind all the time. Literally all the time!”

“Yes, that sounds about right. I can image that being troublesome.”

Pansy’s face reddened even further. “I can ignore it if there’s work to do. If there’s something I can concentrate on, I can push it out of my mind. But then I get distracted, and then I can’t stop thinking about touching myself. It never stops! My body feels like it’s on fire, Hermione. I’m going to go crazy!”

“Yes, I see. Pansy, I don’t mean to be rude, but could we please continue this after you’ve finished undressing? I could have sworn I told you to take off your clothes, but I don’t see you taking off your clothes.”

Pansy silently snarled. For a moment, it looked like she was about to say no. But then she settled with a sharp “Fine!”

In quick angry movements, Pansy unhooked her bra, letting her breasts bounce free, and then kicked off her panties. Her pussy was as red and inflamed as Hermione expected it to be, not to mention so glazed with juice that it was a wonder she hadn’t immediately begun dripping. Her nipples were extraordinarily hard.

Hermione used her magic to lift Pansy’s clothes and wand into the air, then hovered them over to the farthest corner sink, setting everything down in a neatly-folded pile with Pansy’s wand on the bottom. Pansy was now left with nothing but her socks and shoes. The cold had her lightly shivering, and a sudden spike of nervousness had her subtly tensing.

“Alright, you can continue. I believe you were telling me how desperate you were?”

Pansy scowled. “Desperate. You have such a way with words, Granger.”

Hermione just raised an eyebrow. Pansy met her eyes for a moment, but she was quick to look away, and she muttered a quiet apology toward the bathroom floor. Hermione just clicked her tongue and gestured for her to continue.

“Hermione, the problem is that it never stops. It never stops! I’m horny all the time. I can’t stop thinking about it. I only have to brush the front of my skirt the wrong way and I’m halfway melting. My panties are soaked all the time. I’ve had to charm them to keep myself from leaking. I’m just lucky nobody has noticed anything yet, but if this keeps up? I don’t know what will happen.”

Pansy bit her lip. She squirmed for a moment, and Hermione had the distinct impression that Pansy was fighting to keep her hands away from her crotch.

“Yesterday I was partnered with Draco in Potions. I wasn’t having much trouble because of how hard brewing is. It takes a lot of attention, and I wasn’t thinking about sex when I have something so important to focus on. I was doing well. But then Malfoy ended up dropping one of the ingredients on the floor. He…”

Pansy trailed off into silence. Her face seemed overwhelmed by the memory. Hermione raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“He bent over,” Pansy whined. “He bent over to pick it up, and he stuck out his bum. It was only a second! I didn’t even see anything, his robe was in the way! But I noticed. That’s all it took. I noticed his ass and I remembered how fucking horny I was. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, Hermione. I spent the entire class daydreaming about Draco screwing me. I couldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried.”

Pansy’s expression turned sour. Her hands balled into fists. She stared at Hermione’s feet with an agitated, helpless sort of anger.

“Hermione, I need you to remove the tattoo. It’s too much, alright? I can’t handle it. I know you have to have some sort of spell to get rid of it. I know how you think, okay? You wouldn’t have put this thing on my body if you didn’t have a way to remove it.”

Hermione hummed to herself. “A reasonable assumption. I understand what you’re saying, Pansy, don’t worry. But I need to ask you a question before I can give you an answer. Does that sound fair?”

Pansy grimaced. Her arms twitched for just a second. “Yes, sure. Fine.”

“Alright, good. Have you been touching yourself?”

Pansy went very still.

“Answer the question, Pansy. Don’t be rude.”

Pansy glared harder at the floor. “Yes,” she mumbled.

“That’s what I thought. How often have you touched yourself? Once or twice total, once or twice a day, once or twice every hour?”

Pansy’s blush had deepened, Hermione noted. She seemed extraordinarily reluctant to look Hermione in the eye. Her expression was heavy with something sharp and shameful.

“I’m not trying to touch myself,” Pansy muttered. “Sometimes I accidentally brush up against myself, like when I’m changing clothes. I’m not masturbating. It’s just… it isn’t easy. Sometimes I don’t think. My hands wander without me noticing.”

Hermione sighed. “Pansy, please give me an actual answer. A hard number would be best, but an estimate is also fine.”

Pansy grit her teeth. “A few times every day,” she spat. She was silent for a moment. “When I’m out in the school,” she added reluctantly. “Like when I’m in the hallway, or in class. I do it more when I’m in bed or the shower or anywhere else I’m alone. I don’t know how much I’m doing it exactly because I’m not doing any of this on purpose! This is just my body being stupid. I’m only brushing up against things, I’m not trying to rub myself off or anything. I’m not trying to masturbate.”

Hermione made a little noise of sympathy. “That sounds very difficult, Pansy. I can see why you’re having such a hard time handling the situation. But I’m sorry to say that there’s nothing I can do to help.”

Pansy’s eyes jerked up. They locked onto Hermione’s own, blazing hot with suppressed emotion, before Hermione’s cool gaze had her flinching back down to the tiles below.

“Hermione…”

“Now Pansy, be reasonable. I told you that this tattoo would last for three weeks. Do you know what that means? It means the tattoo is going to stay where it is for three weeks. No amount of whining and complaining can change that. You’ll just have to be patient, Pansy. Wait until it wears off naturally.”

Pansy’s face scrunched up in humiliated anger. But Hermione saw how hard it was for the other girl to hold on to that anger: Pansy was standing naked before a fully clothed Hermione, wandless and helpless, overwhelmingly horny despite herself. The fury was leaking away like water through a hole in a bucket.

“I truly am sorry, Pansy. I’m just telling you the truth. You’ll have to keep practicing your self-control until the tattoo wears off. I’m sure you can survive another two weeks without too much public embarrassment. Bear with it, alright? Keep a stiff upper lip.”

The anger was gone now, and in its place was a look of defeated shame. Pansy stared at the floor like she had just discovered some deep but unpleasant truth.

“Yes, Miss Hermione,” she muttered.

Hermione blinked. Then she laughed, startling Pansy. “Wow! Good job, Pansy.”

“What? What did I do?”

“You addressed me properly! You had the right tone and everything. Miss Hermione? Exactly what I wanted to hear.” Hermione shook her head ruefully. “I’ll be honest, I was starting to think that I’d never get you to do that. It doesn’t count when I have to prod you into doing it, you know.”

Pansy’s expression turned pained. Hermione beamed.

“Well! Regardless of what you seem to think, I believe that this new tattoo of yours has already proven to be quite helpful toward your attitude problem. If this is how you’re acting after just one week, imagine how polite you’ll be after three! Keep it up, Pansy. If you do, I’ll make sure you get a nice reward at the end of all this. All you have to do is keep being a good girl.”

Pansy grimaced. She very purposefully kept herself silent.

“Anyways, this is all rather off-topic. There’s a reason why we’re both here, yes? Today is your weekly disciplining session. You’re here to be punished, Pansy, and I can’t help but notice you still don’t have your ass out like I asked you.”

Pansy’s eyes suddenly flicked to the door. “Hermione…”

“Shush. Don’t worry about that. If anyone walks in, I’ll just tell them that you’ve been a naughty girl, and you’ve earned yourself a little punishment for your bad behavior. They’ll understand once I fully explain the situation. I honestly don’t think anyone would be too surprised once they stopped and thought about it. Doesn’t something like this seem rather in character for a girl like you?”

“Hermione, I’m naked,” Pansy hissed.

Hermione tilted her head. “I suppose? Should that matter? I mean, it’s not like anyone would see anything actually important, you know? I’m still fully dressed.” Hermione giggled. “My goodness, can you imagine it? Somebody walking in and seeing me utterly bare, without any clothes on? I’d be so embarrassed. Humiliated, really. Wouldn’t that just be terrible?”

Pansy gritted her teeth. Her eyes flipped between Hermione and the door. Hermione flashed Pansy a teasing, cheerful grin.

“Yes, well. All kidding aside, I was serious earlier. It’s time to stick out your bottom, Pansy. Present yourself.”

Pansy bit her lip. Her body was tense, her nervousness very apparent to Hermione’s eyes. Besides some quiet fidgeting, Pansy didn’t move at all. Hermione frowned.

“Pansy, you aren’t saying no, are you?”

Pansy froze. Hermione could see her desperately searching for something to say, something Hermione wouldn’t be offended by. Then she suddenly blurted out, “I found a guy!”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Alright? What does that mean, Pansy?”

“A guy. Um, the guy you were talking about earlier? You wanted me to… make a friend?”

“Oh! You finished that task I gave you? Already? Wonderful! I’m so happy to hear that. Who is he?”

“Miles Bletchley. He’s Slytherin’s Keeper. He and my family have an understanding. He won’t say anything bad about me.” Pansy’s body relaxed ever-so-slightly, more comfortable now that she appeared to be on safe ground.

“Bletchley,” Hermione mused. “That’s the one in seventh year, right? I know him. We’ve talked once. Seemed a rather nice man. Didn’t much act like the usual sort you’d find in Slytherin. Not to stereotype, of course.” 

“He’s nice,” Pansy agreed. She looked like she wanted to say more, but stayed silent.

“No, don’t go quiet. Say what you were going to say.”

Slowly, with great reluctance, Pansy said, “He’s a childhood friend. We didn’t play together very often, he was a boy and years older than me, but we saw each other at parties. They were very dull, and he’d come over to talk. He was… nice.”

“Was?”

“We didn’t talk much after he left for Hogwarts. He made loads of new friends, and most of them were Quidditch team boys. He just stopped having time for me.” Pansy sighed. “He wasn’t mean about it or anything. He just had better things to do. Most of the other kids did the same after they were old enough for Hogwarts.”

Pansy went quiet. Hermione pursed her lips for a moment, thinking. She nodded to herself.

“Well, alright. Thank you for telling me that, Pansy. I appreciate moments of vulnerability like this.”

“Um, alright. You’re welcome.” Pansy’s expression turned self-conscious.

“But I’m sad to say that this is a distraction, and I’ve let you get away with enough distractions. Ass out, Pansy. Now. You won’t get another chance.”

Pansy grimaced. She shot a sour-faced glare toward the door, then turned back and abruptly flinched at the sight of Hermione’s extraordinarily serious expression. Hermione hadn’t been kidding; this really was the last chance Pansy would get. Pansy evidentially understood that, because she suddenly hurried to obey.

She faced the mirror, then leaned over and propped herself up against the sink, laying herself across the porcelain with her bare forearms. The position allowed her to push her ass out into the air, presenting it to Hermione as best she could. It also had her breasts hanging down in the air below her, slightly swaying as she adjusted herself for comfort, and had her head resting at an angle that allowed Hermione to see Pansy’s face in the mirror. Her bitter pout was clear as crystal in the reflected glass.

The tattoo across Pansy’s lower back was glowing as steady as a nightlight. The Chinese characters were clear and smooth across her skin, identical to when Hermione had first placed them there. Pansy’s ass hardly bore any sign of the earlier abuse, just small hints of light bruising that slightly marred her otherwise flawless pale skin. A thin but noticeable trickle of arousal was dripping down her leg.

Hermione took her time looking over Pansy’s body. It was an enjoyable sight, after all. As the seconds passed, Pansy’s legs shifted and her mirrored expression grew more uncomfortable. Her arousal became more pronounced as well, though Pansy was clearly trying to ignore that. As Hermione watched, another small trickle escaped her overwhelmingly drenched pussy. Her fingers twitched, and every so often her hips minutely jerked one way or the other, as if she was struggling in some hidden war within herself.

After the moment had truly stretched, Hermione waved her wand and conjured herself a thick leather tawse. She held it up and inspected the leather, touching and testing the material with her fingers. The sight of such an intimidating tool had Pansy letting loose a quiet gasp.

“Scary, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll be hitting you quite as hard as I did last session. The tawse is rather more serious than some silly little hairbrush.” Hermione paused, pretending to think. “You know what? Let’s play a game. There’s only one rule, so it should be simple enough, even for you. I want you to look into your eyes.”

Pansy blinked. “What?”

“Your eyes, Pansy. In the mirror?” Hermione pointed towards Pansy’s reflected face. “Look at yourself. Keep eye contact. Don’t turn away, even for a second. If you do? Well, that would earn you a penalty, and you know how I like to punish penalties.” Hermione laughed. “Really, rewarding misbehavior with pain to your cute little backside is the only way you actually learn. It’s the only real choice I have, to be honest. You really don’t allow me any other options.”

Pansy huffed out an angry little sigh. “Fine, I won’t turn away. Just start hitting me already, okay? Stop dragging this out. I want to get this done.”

Hermione clicked her tongue. “Spoilsport. Still, if you insist.”

Hermione cracked the tawse against Pansy’s ass. She had hardly put any strength into the blow, but it was still enough to have Pansy howling in pain and crumpling against the sink, her body almost collapsing atop the porcelain to support her suddenly boneless legs.

Hermione laughed. “You looked away, Pansy! On the first hit, too. How disappointing. I suppose that’s one extra strike to the bum for you. You deserve it, honestly. Can’t you do any better?”

Pansy hissed. Her voice was positively agonized. Her hands left the sink to clutch her ass and rub the ache away, but Hermione frowned and forced them both away with a mild stinging hex. Pansy yelped.

“Hands back on the sink, Pansy. Stay in position. If you don’t, you’ll earn yourself something worse.”

In the mirror, Pansy’s face was silently snarling like she was ready to commit bloody murder, but she did as she was told. She put her hands back on the sink and pushed her ass out into the air, as reluctant an offering as Hermione had ever seen. Hermione viciously swung the tawse against empty air, letting the sound of its whistle echo through the bathroom, and then chuckled at how quickly Pansy had flinched.

Then Hermione struck her for real, smacking the leather hard against both cheeks. The hit wasn’t as bad as before, so Pansy merely shouted out in pain. Her eyes widened dramatically, but stayed locked on the mirror in front of her.

“Wonderful. That’s one.”

Hermione paused. The moment stretched, the room silent and still. Pansy squirmed as she waited for what was coming. Her eyes remained on her own in the mirror. Hermione was pleased to see that she hadn’t turned away from herself.

Crack! The tawse hit her again, even softer than before. Pansy grunted. “Two,” Hermione said.

A pause. Again, Hermione waited, letting the anticipation build. A long strip of skin across Pansy’s ass was reddening, physical proof of the first blow that was only now beginning to show. For a long moment, Hermione just watched the color slowly change. She smiled. “You really are a pretty girl, Pansy.”

Hermione swung the tawse before Pansy could react, without warning. The meaty slap of leather against skin clapped liked thunder. Pansy’s eyes widened almost comically, her mouth gaped like a fish, and she keened like a kettle letting loose steam. Her ass dipped toward the floor as the pain made her legs go weak. But her eyes didn’t leave her face.

A few moments later, Pansy forced herself back into position, and Hermione nodded approvingly. “Good girl. Three.”

Pansy had at that point figured out the cycle. She wasn’t as tense when the wait stretched out. She was still somewhat nervous, still very aware of the tawse that could come at any moment, but she wasn’t letting the silence get to her head. Arousal continued to drip down her legs, leaving long streaks across her inner thigh, and her body trembled and fidgeted. Hermione lightly tapped the tawse against Pansy’s ass; she flinched, but otherwise didn’t move at all.

“You’re learning, Pansy. Keep it up.”

Crack went the tawse. Pansy howled, eyes forcefully locked on the mirror while her body jerked and spasmed, so close to breaking away but held in place by all the self-control she could muster. Hermione could see tears beginning to spill from Pansy’s eyes. Her sounds of pain began to quiet, until there was only soft panting.

“Four. I really am quite proud of you, Pansy. You’re doing so well.”

Hermione suddenly struck Pansy, hard and fast. She wasn’t ready for it; the leather belted her just as she was beginning to relax. Pansy screamed in a voice overwhelmed by mindless pain, and she fell on the floor in a crumpled heap. Her hands grasped her ass while her body shook from the sheer hurt of it.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It hurts! Hermione, please don’t hit me again, please, I can’t take it, it hurts, it just fucking hurts so much! Fuck! Please! Fuck!”

Pansy abruptly fell silent. Hermione suddenly laughed, because she could see what Pansy had just done; her hands had, completely unconsciously, moved from her ass to her sex. They were frozen in place, still pressed against her slit, desperately trapped between the burning urge to continue and an overwhelming need to pull away.

“This is why it’s so hard to take you seriously, Pansy. Sometimes you like to say no, but your body is always telling me yes. And really, considering your past, is it any wonder why I’m not surprised by this sort of dishonesty?”

Pansy abruptly pulled her hands away, then balled them into fists. She slowly stood up from the floor. Her face swirled with all sorts of emotions; pain, shame, anger, humiliation. It all mixed together into an expression that Hermione could only describe as ‘primal’. It was the look of a woman at her most vulnerable. It was a face that silently screamed she was in pain, that she knew Hermione was the reason why she hurt, and that she hated how utterly powerless she was to stop her.

It was an expression that had Hermione’s excitement spiking. It had Hermione suddenly aware of Pansy’s clear arousal, her hard pointed nipples, her heavy breasts, her nudity, everything there was to see. It had her taking in the very clear difference between them, the authority that Hermione held over her. It had her body tightened in anticipation.

Hermione cleared her throat, more to hide her sudden breathlessness than anything else.

“Yes, well. I do care for you, Pansy. You know how important it is that I finish disciplining you. You’ve earned this, after all. But… well, you’ve taken your punishment well enough so far, and you are due a little kindness. I could allow you to skip the last few strikes. I’d have to have you do something for me in exchange, though.”

Pansy, still trembling, fought to bring herself under control. She swallowed and cleared her throat, viciously wiped the tears from her eyes, and said wetly, “What is it?”

Hermione wordlessly pulled open her robes, revealing an unremarkable shirt and skirt. She twisted her waist, making her skirt swish and spin. She smiled a smile that she belatedly realized was a little hungrier than she had intended.

“Well, first I’d have you come over here and kneel. Just to start.”

The look on Pansy’s face could have filled a book. That book would have been filled with words like revulsion, anger, self-loathing, refusal. Her expression was that of a woman who wouldn’t have said yes if her life had depended on it. But that was only her expression; her eyes told a different story. They were bearing down on Hermione’s cloth-covered sex like a woman dying of thirst might stare down a distant oasis. Her hands drifted toward her own sex, then jerked to a stop. Pansy licked her lips, entirely unconsciously.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Pansy said. She was trying to sound serious, but her tone of voice completely undermined her. She wasn’t convincing at all.

“Well, you don’t have to. I could just go back to punishing you.” Hermione shrugged. “It’s only an offer. You can just say no.”

Pansy did not seem to be in a state of mind where she could say no to sex. Even though she clearly hated what she was being asked to do, Pansy stumbled forward and fell to her knees, allowing her face to rest at waist height, right in front of Hermione’s skirt. Her eyes were just a little glazed.

“Fine,” Pansy said in a low tone of voice. “I’ll do it. I’ll fucking hate it, but I’ll do it, alright? It doesn’t matter. You’re making me do this. I don’t have any other choice.”

Hermione stifled a chuckle. “Whatever you say, Pansy.”

Hermione snuck a hand beneath her skirt and pulled down her panties. They were white cotton, as plain and uninteresting as could be, but Pansy stared at them like they were the most shocking thing she’d ever seen. They fell to the floor, and Hermione stepped out of them and used her wand to send them flying into a sink. Pansy dragged her eyes back to Hermione’s skirt. Hermione patted it.

“Come here, girl. Crawl under.”

A part of Pansy clearly bristled at being called like a dog. The rest of her was only thinking about sex. She crawled forward and pushed her head beneath Hermione’s skirt, stopping when she was only an inch away from her pussy. Hermione both saw Pansy stop in shock at the sight of it. She could feel the girl’s hot breath against the thick, bushy pubic hair that covered her sex. It almost tickled.

Pansy was silent for a moment. Then Hermione both felt and heard Pansy deeply inhale, like a dog taking in a scent.

Hermione burst into laughter. “You pervert! You don’t actually like that I haven’t shaved, do you? That’s so weird!” She broke into giggles. “Jesus, Pansy. You’re such a boy sometimes.”

Pansy snarled, quiet as a mouse. She gently wrapped her hands around Hermione’s legs. Hermione could feel her fingers faintly trembling.

“Can we just get this over with?” Pansy growled. Her voice leaked even more hunger than Hermione’s had. “I’m not doing this because I want to, okay? I’m doing this because I have to. I don’t like this.”

This time, Hermione snorted. “Of course,” she said dryly. “Well, go ahead and get started then.”

Pansy didn’t need to be told twice. She pressed her lips against Hermione’s pussy, locking lips in the truest sense of the word, and then began to lick. She lapped like a dog, like she wanted to take in all of Hermione’s taste. Her tongue pushed inside her entrance with reckless enthusiasm.

Hermione bit her lip. The heat in her core began to burn hotter. “You need to focus on my clitoris,” she said quite critically. “You’re a girl, Pansy. You should know this.”

Pansy made a wordless noise of apology. Her attention wandered higher up Hermione’s sex, until her nose was buried in Hermione’s bush and her tongue was working over Hermione’s sensitive little pearl.

Hermione’s body suddenly clenched, despite herself. A gasp of pleasure escaped her, but she made sure to keep it near-silent, so Pansy wouldn’t hear. Hermione didn’t speak until she could trust her voice to remain level.

“Good enough, I suppose. You could do better, but I really am trying to keep my expectations realistic. Keep at it.”

Pansy kept at it.

Time passed. Pansy licked Hermione’s pussy frantically, almost desperately. She wasn’t skillful in the slightest, but she made up for it in enthusiasm. She put everything she could into the act: she licked, she sucked, she swirled, she plunged her tongue into Hermione’s depth. She did everything a girl could possibly think to do.

Occasionally, Hermione made remarks.

“Yes, that’s very good, Pansy. Keep going now. Don’t disappoint me.”

“A little bit faster, Pansy. Put some energy into it, okay? Try to be passionate.”

“You’re getting better, Pansy. Better than what I was expecting from you. Yes, keep doing that, that’s good. That’s very good.”

The pleasure built. Hermione’s body was tense and tingling, like there was an electric current dancing through her body. Her core was burning hot, flaring like a furnace, enough to make her ready to melt. Hermione couldn’t stop herself from panting, or occasionally letting loose a groan. 

“Keep going, Pansy,” Hermione gasped. She pressed her palms against the back of Pansy’s head, pushing her forward. “Don’t you dare stop. I’ll punish you if you slow down, alright? Keep going. Faster!”

Pansy went faster. Hermione threw back her head and moaned. Her knees trembled, but she didn’t let herself move away. She couldn’t. She needed Pansy’s touch, she had to have it, she couldn’t let anything get in the way of the wonderful pleasure that was spiking higher and higher.

Hermione felt Pansy smother a whine against her body. She looked down and saw that one of Pansy’s hands was pumping in and out of her own pussy, finger-fucking herself with raw abandon. Hermione grinned.

“Touch yourself as much as you want, Pansy. It feels good, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it feel so good?”

Pansy keened. Her tongue continued to dance, her mouth continued to kiss and suck, and Hermione felt herself beginning to crest. She was nearing orgasm. Her fingers dug into Pansy’s hair, gripping tight and forcing her in place, pushing her hard against her pussy. It must have hurt, but Pansy didn’t give any sign that she noticed.

“Yes, yes, I’m so close! Keep going! Pansy! Fuck, it’s so good! It’s so good!”

Pansy went faster. She tonguefucked Hermione, hard and strong and eager. It felt better than anything Hermione had felt before.

“Yes, yes! Oh! Yes! God fucking hell yes! Fuck! Yes! Yes! It’s so good!”

Hermione came. She came loud, almost screaming, like she was announcing herself to the entire school. Her hands mindlessly ground Pansy’s face against her pussy, practically crushing the girl against herself, and her hips unconsciously rocked back and forth in time to the rhythm of Pansy’s tongue. She couldn’t stop saying yes, she couldn’t stop saying how good it was, because the pleasure was so intense it hardly left room to think.

Gradually, gently, Hermione drifted down. Her muscled relaxed, her breathing settled. Her hands gradually unclenched. Her body loosened. Pansy continued her licking and sucking, at least until Hermione pulled her head away.

“Should I stop?” Pansy asked. Her voice was thick and heavy, with a slight lisp. Hermione realized that was because her tongue was sore. She chuckled breathily.

“No… no, you can stop. You did wonderfully. Good job, Pansy.”

Hermione paused. She caught a faint sloshing sound at the edge of hearing. She looked down and realized that Pansy was still fingering herself. Her pussy was almost cartoonishly wet, so comically overflowing with juices that she was steadily dripping onto the tile floor below. There was a small puddle.

Pansy whimpered. It was the most tortured noise she’d made so far, even worse than when she’d had her ass struck. Hermione stepped back, freeing Pansy from her skirt, and she immediately saw that the other girl’s eyes were utterly glazed and unfocused. Her face was slack, her cheeks burned red, and her hands were pumping away at her pussy like she wasn’t actually in control of herself.

“I want to come,” Pansy whined.

Hermione summoned her panties back from the sink with a short little wave of her hand. She bent over and threaded her legs through, then pulled them back up. Her body was swimming beneath the soft little aftershocks of her orgasm. “That’s nice,” she said.

“I want to come!” Pansy cried. Tears were in the corners of her eyes. She was breathing like a marathon sprinter nearing the end of their endurance. One hand continued to desperately rub herself off while the other plunged in and out of her depths.

Hermione knelt down and caught Pansy’s eyes, and then she stared. She stared with the firmest expression she could, stared hard enough to actually pierce through Pansy’s pleasure-haze. Pansy’s fingers slowed, though they didn’t stop. Pansy blinked, then truly looked back at Hermione.

“No,” Hermione said.

Pansy’s face froze. It quivered piteously. “Hermione,” she whispered. “Please. I need to come. I’m so close, I need it so much, I can’t take it anymore! I need this. I need this so much. I did everything you asked. I had sex with you, I made you come. You came! Isn’t that enough? Isn’t that good enough?”

Hermione reached out and cupped Pansy’s cheek. It was a tender, gentle touch, the sort of thing that could be described with words like ‘sensual’. Pansy’s eyes widened. Hermione stared down at Pansy, softly smiling.

“No,” Hermione said. “Now put your clothes back on. We’re done for today.”

Pansy’s expression crumpled. Her fingering slowed to a stop.

“Hermione,” she whimpered.

“Pansy,” Hermione mimicked. “See, I can do it too. It’s not impressive. You’ll never convince anyone of anything if you act like that.”

Pansy was silent. A tear broke free from one of her eyes, trickling down her cheek. “Please,” Pansy whispered.

“No,” Hermione said. She shook her head and smiled, as if amused by what Pansy was doing, then stood.

“I’ll give you three minutes to pull yourself together, okay? Then we’ll finish up. I do have other things I need to do today, you know. I can’t just hang around with you in the bathroom all day. You really need to start being more considerate towards other people’s time. It’s a bad habit of yours.”

Pansy’s gaze slowly settled to the floor. She blinked. “Okay,” she said woodenly.

Hermione waited. Pansy remained on the floor for a long while, staring at nothing with an expression equally lust-filled and heartbroken. Her hands twitched toward her sex, but she stopped herself from touching herself, even as her pussy continued to steadily leak arousal onto the floor. Eventually, she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling up, and she turned and plodded her way towards the sink. She picked up her clothes, then began to dress herself.

Each piece of clothing was put on sluggishly. Pansy was extraordinarily careful not let anything press against her slit, quite plainly fearful of what might happen if she once again caused her arousal to flare. Soon enough, Pansy was fully dressed, and at first glance she looked just like she had when Hermione first entered the bathroom. But her face was far redder now, and her expression far more subdued.

She also reeked of sex. Looking closely, Hermione could even see a little of her arousal still on Pansy’s face. Hermione decided not to say anything, just to see if Pansy ever noticed.

“There’s only one more thing before I’ll allow you to leave, Pansy. Are you so fried that you can’t guess what that is?”

Pansy just blinked, befuddled.

Hermione rolled her eyes with a sigh. She held out her hand, palm facing downward, right in front of Pansy.

“What do you say after you’ve been punished, Pansy?”

Pansy stared at that hand. More emotions than Hermione could count passed lightning-fast across her face. All the weight of the day’s session, from beginning to end, crashed down on her. Hermione could quite clearly see that Pansy wanted nothing more than to slap the hand away; she didn’t want to even touch Hermione. Hermione had just told her no, Hermione had just told her she wasn’t allowed to have an orgasm, and that wound was still raw and jagged.

But in the end, Pansy didn’t really have a choice. She only had one possible response. Pansy bent over and kissed the back of Hermione’s hand, then said, “Thank you, Miss Hermione.”

Hermione smiled. “Good girl.”


End file.
